Bittersweet
by Caramelchan
Summary: Bellatrix/Voldemort Even the Dark Lord has physical needs.


First published HP fic... not much else to say.

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It's bittersweet really. I was completely elated when it happened; it was everything I'd ever desired, and then more.

It was a night in November of last year. Rain dripped down my bare arm even as I felt the black tattoo – the mark of ownership bestowed upon me by the Dark Lord himself – burn hot and dark. Abandoning my task, I apparated at once to my Master's side. Moments later, many other Death Eaters arrived also and our meeting commenced as normal. I was not bored however; how could I be bored when in the presence of the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen?

It wasn't until the meeting was drawing to a close that the Dark Lord spoke directly to me for the first – but definitely not the last – time that night.

"Bellatrix. You will remain here tonight. There are matters I need to discuss with you."

I could feel the jealous eyes of Lucius, Snape, Wormtail and the others that sat around the table staring at me, but I did not adjust my gaze from my Master's face.

"Of course, my Lord."

A rare privilege it was for any Death Eater, even a high ranking one such as myself, to spend time alone with him. I was breathlessly excited and curious about what was to come and could scarcely contain myself enough to concentrate on the closing point of the meeting.

The rest of the ranks were soon heading out of my Master's lavishly furnished house, leaving me sitting alone at the table. When it was only the Dark Lord and myself left in the house, he locked the door with a wordless flourish of his wand.

"Come! Sit by the fire!" he beckoned. "Bella."

Hearing my name shortened, falling off his tongue with such ease caused my heart to flutter. When that was coupled with him smooth voice, his graceful silhouette in the firelight and his bewitching smell, I was quivering with excitement.

"Sit," Voldemort commanded as I entered the circle of warmth offered by the flames. Obediently, I sat and stared intently at my Master as he stared, with equal intensity into the fire. All was quiet as he gathered together what he was about to say, carefully calculating each word with cold, mathematical precision.

Patiently, I waited.

"Bella. You are a devoted – the most devoted – follower of mine. You are a fierce warrior and an incredible witch."

Turning to face me, he watched as I positively glowed from such compliments that had already been given to me, not knowing that greater flattery was yet to come.

"You are also a beautiful woman and this is something that has not gone unnoticed."

There was a short pause.

"I have no need for love, but I still have physical desires that should be the responsibility of a beautiful woman. A woman like you, Bella."

Rendered motionless by my Master's confession, I could do little but sit and gape. Bats swooped through my stomach and I felt nervous glee building inside of me; not unlike the feeling that I recognised from the moments before great battles, except then I could expect to be beside my Lord, rather than beneath him.

I realised that I had said nothing and that the Dark Lord was becoming impatient.

"I am always glad to serve you, my Lord."

"Then I trust that I can call upon your assistance in this matter?"

The request sounded, to an uninformed ear, like any instruction from master to servant.

Shaking in anticipation, I rose from my seat and eagerly stepped forward. More eager still was the Dark Lord, who was before me in an instant, kissing with a hunger that I had felt little of from any other lover. I could still feel his desperation and need for the joys of the flesh many hours later, when we were thoroughly exhausted from our exertions and we finally retired.

Earlier, our clothes dropped to the floor, but now our bodies dropped to the bed, weary and aching. I was exhausted, but elated and could not refuse when the Dark Lord reached out to me for the final time that night.

The taste of the rich red wine lingered on both our lips as my Lord and Master awarded me one last kiss.

"That will be all, Bella."

He spoke in a very matter of fact tone; a more striking contrast could not be made between that and the new husky depth of his voice. I stood, my toes upon the plush carpet, and took a moment to decipher what I had been asked. The words told me that I should leave but the sound of his voice kept calling me back to his bed.

I chose the former option, knowing what fate failure to obey the Dark Lord could bring. Slowly, I began to walk towards the door, sad to leave but also dazed by the evening. Even in my wildest dreams, I could never have expected to experience a night like the one that had just happened.

I was almost at the door when my Master called out to me.

"You may stay here for the night. No doubt you are weary…"

He had little time to finish his sentence before I had pulled the sheets over my naked body. The lamps were quickly extinguished and the room was dark and quiet. Until: "It'd be better if no-one else knew of this, Bella."

"Of course not, my Lord," I replied instantly.

Within minutes, he was asleep, his chest hardly moving as he breathed. I found myself watching him sleep in a most over-romanticised way.

Since then, so many nights have been passed in the very same fashion. So enamoured am I with his presence that I can never sleep with him beside me. That gives me many hours to think about the – what is this we have? – relationship I have with the Dark Lord.

It took me too long to realise that he would never reach out to me in the night like other lovers do, nor would I be anything more than a tool – a doll – to him. I am throwaway and disposable. I have shattered my emotions and my reputation in one fell swoop and yet, I regret nothing.

Why?

Because when I am awake and sure that he is very deeply asleep, I start to pretend. One hand is placed on my cheek as if he'd been stroking it tenderly, his long fingers chilling the hot flesh; the other hand is entwined with my own.

And then, for a few short hours, it's as if the Dark Lord has learned to love; has learned to love me.

All the bitterness is gone and it is only sweet.


End file.
